It has been six years since Jeffrey Epstein died in a Manhattan jail cell, and in the court of public opinion, the case feels closed. The news cycle has churned on. The powerful men named in flight logs have, by and large, escaped meaningful consequence. The story, once a horrifying account of child sex trafficking, has morphed into something else entirely: a meme, a political football, a conspiracy theory whispered on podcasts.

The narrative has become a ghoulish public spectacle about a list of names, a mysterious death, and a jailed socialite. But in our obsession with the powerful perpetrators and their secrets, we have committed the ultimate sin: we have forgotten the survivors.

Since no one else seems to care, let's remember them.

Let’s remember that before there was a "list," there were girls. Before there was a conspiracy, there was a crime. The story became about powerful men, not powerless children. It became about Ghislaine Maxwell’s trial, not the trials of the women who have to live with the aftermath for the rest of their lives. Their pain, their stolen girlhoods, their lifelong trauma—it was all relegated to the status of backstory, a sordid plot point in a political thriller that was never really about them.

We, the public, have failed them twice. First, by allowing a culture to exist where a predator like Epstein could operate with impunity for decades, and a second time, by turning their tragedy into entertainment and then, worst of all, into old news.

For us, it's a headline from 2019. For them, it is the C-PTSD that dictates the course of every day in 2025. It is the panic attack in the grocery store. It is the inability to form trusting relationships. It is the eating disorders, the addictions, the nightmares. It is the soul-deep exhaustion of fighting for years, not just for legal justice, but for the basic right to be believed.

Trauma does not have an expiration date. The legal battles may have ended for some, but the psychological and emotional recovery is a marathon with no finish line. The immense bravery shown by survivors like Virginia Giuffre, Sarah Ransome, and the many Jane Does who came forward was met not just with support, but with a tidal wave of public scrutiny, victim-blaming, and accusations of gold-digging. They put their lives on the line to expose the truth, and we thanked them by changing the channel.

The case is not over. Not while the vast network of enablers—the financiers who managed Epstein's wealth, the lawyers who intimidated victims, the recruiters who procured girls, and the powerful "friends" who participated in the abuse—remain largely untouched. We traded comprehensive justice for a handful of high-profile convictions and called it a day, leaving the system that created Epstein perfectly intact.

So, the next time the Epstein case comes up as a punchline or a "what-if" conspiracy, resist the urge to engage in the spectacle. Resist the urge to debate the flight logs. Instead, take a moment of silence and remember the human beings at the center of it all. Remember the girls, now women, whose childhoods were stolen so that powerful men could be entertained. Remember that their story isn't over.

And because their story isn't over, our responsibility to remember—and to demand a world where this can never, ever happen again—isn't over either. It is the very least we owe them.

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According to the article, it's crucial to keep talking about the survivors because their trauma doesn't end when the news cycle does. Focusing on their ongoing struggles with C-PTSD, addiction, and other long-term effects of abuse counteracts the public tendency to turn their stories into entertainment or conspiracy theories. Remembering them is an act of bearing witness to the human cost of the abuse.

The narrative has largely morphed from a story about child sex trafficking into a political spectacle. Instead of focusing on the victims, public and media attention has been diverted to conspiracy theories about Epstein's death and a "list" of powerful names associated with him. This shift has effectively erased the survivors from their own story.

As the article emphasizes, "trauma does not have an expiration date." Survivors continue to deal with the severe, lifelong consequences of the abuse they endured. This includes complex post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD), anxiety, depression, addiction, and profound difficulty in forming healthy relationships. Their healing is an ongoing, daily process.

While Epstein is dead and Ghislaine Maxwell is in prison, the article argues that this is not full justice. The vast network of powerful individuals who enabled, financed, and participated in the abuse has largely escaped accountability. True justice would involve holding this entire network responsible for their roles in the trafficking ring.

Survivors who bravely came forward, such as Virginia Giuffre and Sarah Ransome, faced intense public scrutiny, victim-blaming, and attacks on their credibility. They had to recount their most traumatic experiences in a hostile public and legal environment, which is a significant barrier for many victims of sexual violence.

The primary call to action is to consciously shift focus back to the human beings at the center of this tragedy. This means resisting the urge to engage with conspiracy theories and political memes about the case. Instead, the public should focus on demanding systemic change and supporting efforts to create a world where wealthy and powerful individuals cannot abuse children with impunity.